


Soft Intentions

by Kyloisadisneyprincess



Series: Good Omens snapshots [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dominant Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Softie Crowley (Good Omens), Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 00:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20144587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyloisadisneyprincess/pseuds/Kyloisadisneyprincess
Summary: Coping with rejection from god herself is hard. Crowley doesn't think he could handle rejection from Aziraphale as well. But he just wants to touch, just wants to care for his soft sweet angel.Or the one where Crowley copes by adopting a kitten with similarities to a certain angel.





	Soft Intentions

Crowley doesn't intend. No, though he doesn't tend to intend at all. Making choices makes change happen. And Crowley doesn't like to be the catalyst for the destruction of his own routine. Better to have someone else to blame.

So, it's entirely his angels fault that his schedule now consists of hourly feedings and check ins with the little furry creature situated in the box under his desk. It is entirely his angels fault for having soft white wings that Crowley cannot, will not allow himself to touch.

The kitten has to be just as soft. Crowley tells himself fingers curled around the tiny suckling body. If not then, it at least has just as much of an appetite.

Crowley will get rid of it once it's not so needy. He thinks.

He's wrong. He read somewhere that all kittens eyes are blue at birth but they change as they grow. By the time that happens Crowley will be ready to let go. He knows he'll be fueled by the similarity of their eyes and his own self loathing. 

Only, the damned cat never changes eye color. They remain the same piercing blue and go slightly crossed with attention. Like a certain angel also gets his signals mixed when spotting a particularly scrumptious dessert in a nearby bakery window.

So, he takes the brat for shots and fixing and is informed that he has a tortoise point siamese. And the only change in color he should expect is the deepening of the gray and coco markings along its face, tail, ears and paws. The rest will stay a creamy white.

And that's bloody fine. Fine to match his angels outdated tartan get up. Fine to frame those blue slitted eyes that Crowley has come to believe are a perfect compromise. Half way between the Angel's look and his own.

If he was asked to stammer out a name for the thing, in the busy clinic. He certainly did not intend to call it angel. But the names he had been calling it: My little Un-damning proof of being very bad at being a heartless stone cold demon, Tiny soft substitute for the innocent affections I hold for my only friend. You blue eyed monstrosity that surely can see into my soul when I am crying and rocking you at 3AM, and Plant-pooper. All were certainly not acceptable for the economy of the allotted space on the vet form. Though the last one might have fit.

* In fact, the randomness of the defecation (it was only when the litter needed to be scooped) added something to Crowley's intimidation game because it was certainly never the fault of the cat.

And you could hardly blame Crowley for also getting it a little tartan collar and tags to match the new and painfully obvious name.

By the time the apocalypse did not happen and Crowley led Aziraphale into his flat. He hardly had any guilt about his aptly named comfort creature.

In fact he expected that Angel would stay hidden from a stranger. And it did. They discussed the prophecy and swapped. And Crowley quite forgot that he owned a cat named after his best friend.

Until, it sauntered vaguely in, meowing in demand of affection and more importantly food.

"Oh, what's this?" Aziraphale said clasping his hands together in an effort to stop his delighted wiggle. The posture did not suit Crowley's body, which Aziraphale was currently wearing. "Dear boy, you never told me you had a cat."

Aziraphale had already scooped Angel up into his arms. And now it was peering smugly at Crowley in Aziraphale's strange body.

"Have we got a name then?" Aziraphale asked turning the collar so he could reach the tags. "Very stylish dear." Tutted to the cat. The collar was tartan. Crowley was trying a new and fashionable shade of red himself as Aziraphale read the collar. "Angel" he said with a slight tick of disappointment. "Here, I thought I was the only one, but we appear to be a pair." He puts the cat down and moves away.

Crowley can only gulp. He's embarrassed himself, and disappointed Aziraphale all in one go.

"I found it. On the street." Crowley croaks as if his act of charity might make this slightly better.

"Well I'm glad it has a home" Aziraphale answers tersely. As a rule the angel loved all manner of creatures. Angel, the cat, is the only one Crowley has ever seen him be adverse to.

"I had to keep it. It reminds me of you"

"Should I be flattered?" Aziraphale says with just enough edge to his voice.

"No, I'm a fuck up. Shit Aziraphale... I want to feel how soft your wings are and I want to worship every bit of you and care for you for all eternity" Crowley keens. His words sound wrong in Aziraphale's mouth. "But you'd never, I couldn't..."

"I'd never love you back?" Aziraphale asks softly. "So you adopted a cat."

Crowley gulps again and nods.

"You silly boy, you need to get my body back to the book shop where it belongs. But after we survive this, I am going to show you just how dear you are to me. And we will be having a discussion about your coping strategies."

"Yes, Angel." 

"Now, run along. I've got some properly demonic wiles to get up to."

After Crowley is gone. Aziraphale stoops down ready to lay some ground rules.

"Now, he's mine you see. Not yours." 

The cat still only wants to eat.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @ineffablehusbandfacts sometimes I art.


End file.
